


Five in the morning

by kira892



Series: Boyfriends AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kira892/pseuds/kira892
Summary: It takes about five minutes after ringing the doorbell before he hears the sound of footsteps. Lotor seems normal enough when he opens the door, if you ignore his clothes (the same button up and jeans he was wearing yesterday) and the smell of whisky that hung around him like a cloud, thick and heavy. He smiles when he sees Lance, a small quirk of lips that looks completely wrong on his mouth; too loose and soft.Yeah, he’s absolutely hammered.





	Five in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> I just really liked the idea of Lance helping Lotor out with his hair and after a little too many repeats of Strange Love, this happened. I also had a particular aesthetic in my head that I wanted to see them in and I can't draw so, here we are. I actually crafted a whole au around this and maybe I'll write a prequel exploring that later. For now, I hope you like this!

It takes about five minutes after ringing the doorbell before he hears the sound of footsteps. Lotor seems normal enough when he opens the door, if you ignore his clothes (the same button up and jeans he was wearing yesterday) and the smell of whisky that hung around him like a cloud, thick and heavy. He smiles when he sees Lance, a small quirk of lips that looks completely wrong on his mouth; too loose and soft.

 

Yeah, he’s absolutely hammered.

 

Lance isn’t surprised. It’s just past five in the morning, he got the text about an hour ago. It was impressively articulate, just a misplaced letter here and dropped space there but those things from Lotor are the equivalent of garbled gibberish from somebody else.

 

“Hello?” he greets cautiously when Lotor continues to just stand there, staring at him.

 

A slow blink. “I can’t find my brush.”

 

Lance raises an eyebrow. “You have three different sets.” That he knows of.

 

“No. I can’t find the,” Lotor trails off, gesturing at the side of his head that was shaved, fingers held out straight, brushing against the short, dark layer of fuzz that’s grown in like he’s smoothing it down. It clicks in Lance’s head just as Lotor says “Tint. Brush.”  

 

He says it too slow, carefully enunciating the words to avoid slurring them. He clears his throat and tries again “Tint brush.”

 

“It’s okay, I brought my kit.” Lance tells him. He reaches out with his free hand, sliding his fingers into Lotor’s hair and pushing it back from his face, humming thoughtfully as the move exposes his roots. There’s about half an inch of growth, hardly visible and not worth wasting bleach over. He tuts.

 

“Okay, wellp. Let’s get to work.”

 

=======================

 

As far as pre-dawn drunk requests go, this is far from the weirdest one he’s ever gotten. Definitely not the weirdest one he’s ever obliged but still. The fact that Lotor is sitting at his feet, patiently waiting as Lance sections his hair into four ponytails is pretty high on the ladder of surreal. He pauses after tying off the last one just to take in the sight.

 

Lotor is just sitting there, docile and quiet, staring blankly ahead looking like an ad for a 90s teen magazine. He still doesn’t say anything when Lance puts the two ponytails on the front of his head up into  buns to get them out of the way and barely bothers being sneaky when he snaps a pic on his phone.

 

“So,” Lance begins, carefully nonchalant  as he pulls on some gloves. “What’s the occasion?”

 

“Excuse me?” Lotor asks after a long pause. Gotta hand it to him for still being this coherent even if he’s clearly struggling.

 

“Nobody gets shitfaced on a tuesday night unless something big went down.” Lance points out as he carefully measures out bleaching powder and developer into a plastic bowl.  He smiles to himself as he starts mixing them together, thinking how just under a year ago, if he had gotten this close to Lotor’s hair with strong chemicals, it would’ve been because he was about to pour a bottle of Nair directly on his head.

 

“I’m not _shitfaced_.” The words come out huffy and they sound hilariously petulant in Lotor’s haughty accent. “I just felt like having a few drinks.”

 

It’s as much as Lance expected to get but this time, he’s unwilling to let it drop. He knows pushing would get him nowhere, at least not right now so he digs around in his head for something else to ask.

 

“Uh huh. Sure. So, was Ezor busy? Or Acxa?” Lance is pretty sure she dyes her own hair blue.  

 

Casual as anything, Lotor shrugs and says “No, but I’m not dating either of them.”

 

It’s been about a month and this isn’t the first time he’s heard Lotor say it outright but still, the words make him pause.

 

“That, is true.”  He says, dipping the tint brush into the bleach and getting to work.

 

He flinches in surprise, lifting his hands away when Lotor suddenly tilts sideways, leaning his head against Lance’s knee. The move nudges the tint brush a tad past where it should go, smearing strong bleach onto snow white hair. Lance tuts.

 

“Hey, watch it.”

 

Lotor’s breath is warm as it gusts over the rip over his knee in an amused huff. “Really? You tried to bribe Ezor into mixing green hair dye into my shampoo.”

 

He got so close too, seeing Lotor walking around with leprechaun green hair would’ve been glorious but in the end, he didn’t think it was worth the price Ezor named.

 

“Did not.” Lance denies, suppressing a shiver when Lotor starts plucking at the frayed denim of his jeans, nails scraping gently across the sensitive skin on Lance’s knee.  

 

“The shade was called Electric Lizard.”

 

How the hell does he even know that? He didn’t even tell Ezor that.  

 

“You can’t prove anything.”

 

Lotor just hums thoughtfully. “I really think she would’ve done it, if you’d agreed to her terms. Whatever they were.” he says, lifting a hand to wave it around as he spoke.

 

“She wanted to practice dolphin piercings. I could’ve been her first victim.” Lance admits with a shudder, thinking of all the horror stories he’s heard about infections. And that was from people who’d gone to professionals.

 

Lotor makes a muffled sound that might have been “hah!” into his knee. “Makes sense, she really wanted to see your dick.”

 

Lance sputters out a noise that’s part gasp and part laughter, almost botching the touch up for the second time in less than ten minutes. “Oh my god. Remind me to get you drunk more often and remind me to have my phone out the whole time. You’re like 5 times more fun when you’re plastered.”

 

Lotor snorts. “I’m always this fun. I’m just saying all these things out loud as supposed to thinking them in my head.”

 

“I think you mean as opposed. Look at that, I’m correcting your grammar now, what were you drinking? Gasoline?” Lance asks, undoing one of the buns at the front of Lotor’s head and working at the roots there.

 

Lotor shrugs. “Perhaps the second bottle of Black Velvet was a bit much.”

 

 _Second_ bottle? Jesus.

 

“You drank two full bottles of whiskey??”

 

“No. I only got through this much” Lotor holds up a hand, indicating the amount with his thumb and middle finger. “-of the second one before I texted you.”

 

Lance goes silent at that. He tongues at his lip ring, hesitating. He works in silence for about a minute, working up the nerve. There’s only a small spot left on Lotor’s scalp to cover when he finally thinks _fuck it_ Lotor texted _him_ , drunk or not, no matter how new this thing between them is. He’s the one here, sitting on Lotor’s couch at five in the morning while he’s so blitzed out on expensive booze, his inhibitions are lying on the floor in tatters.

 

_I’m not dating either of them_

 

Most people are still wondering why that is, him included. Lotor trusts them more, and it’s hardly a secret that there would’nt be a lack of reciprocation had he chosen to ask Acxa out instead.

 

 _He’s used to playing games with other people. You’re completely predictable._ Narti had signed at him when he’d asked her about it. After a sarcastic “Thanks?” she added _He likes that you don’t put up with his bullshit. You’re honest. That’s rare in his world._

 

He’s never been afraid of asking Lotor what the fuck his deal was, but that had always been in the interest of defending or looking out for the wellbeing of someone or something else. But, he supposed now they’re way past the point of Lance pretending to be too proud to admit he cared or thinking it wasn’t his place to pry.   

 

“Seriously, what’s up? Are you okay?”

 

Lance asks, brushing bleach on the last patch of hair by Lotor’s temples. Lotor doesn’t answer. He remains quiet throughout Lance tucking a shower cap securely over his head, moving away to wash out the tint brush and bowl and coming back. Lance settles on the couch, kicking his feet up and leaning back against the fluffy cushions. He starts braiding sections of Lotor’s hair, patiently waiting out his silence. It really has no right to be as soft and bouncy as it is, considering how much bleach it takes to make it this white. Twenty minutes pass before Lotor says anything

 

“I got a voicemail from my mother.”

 

Lance pauses on doing braid number ten. Oh boy. That’s never a good thing. Before he could ask, Lotor continues.

 

“My father is in the hospital. They moved him to intensive care last night.”

 

Lance frowns, wondering why he hasn’t heard about it. You’d think a politician, especially one as prolific as Lotor’s dad would make it on the news if he’s in the ICU. But then again, from what little he knows of their history, the man likes to keep a tight lid on his personal life. And he knows that Lotor’s bloody minded compulsion to appear invulnerable was something he didn’t inherit from his mom.

 

He also knows that to say Lotor’s relationship with him is complicated is an understatement.

 

“I’m guessing she told you to come visit?” Lance asks.

 

“I’m guessing you’re about to tell me I should.” Lotor tells him. His voice is deceptively calm but Lance can practically feel him bristling. He hesitates, instincts telling him to be cautious. Then he remembers what Narti said. He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a heavy sigh as he resumes braiding Lotor’s hair.

 

“I don’t know what you should do.”

 

He’s known Keith since high school, this isn’t the first time he’s been forced into a front row seat to someone’s parental issues. He knows that isn’t always the answer and he knows that even if it is, making someone hear it is rarely a good move.

 

“I mean, he wouldn’t do the same for you.” Lance says, staring intently at the plaits coming together under his fingers. “...Would it really be a good thing?”

 

He doesn’t know if Lotor would understand what he’s trying to say in his current state and he braces himself for an argument as he prepares to be more blunt but before he could get a word out, Lotor suddenly moves. His knees bump against the couch as he shifts sideways. His eyes are still a little bit shiny and they look redder under the light of his floor lamp than they did at the door. The blue of his irises look freakishly bright due to the contrast and the way they regard him makes Lance squirm in a way they’ve never done when Lotor is sober.

 

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re really stupid or really, really smart.”

 

“Wow. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thanks babe.” Lance tells him flatly.

 

Without breaking eye contact, Lotor puts an arm up on the couch and rests his cheek against it. He smiles, that same smile that’s barely a quirk of lips, small but pleased, sweet.

 

“I like it when you call me babe.” He murmurs honestly.

 

His eyes are bloodshot and he has a plastic shower cap smeared with bleach on his head, hair divided up into haphazard braids. He couldn’t be farther from the infuriatingly beautiful bastard that Lance was always torn between punching or kissing but fuck, he’s staring at Lance like he’s the best thing he’s seen all week, like he means everything he said and then some. Neither of them say anything for a long moment and in the silence, Lance finds that perhaps the reality of them isn’t that weird after all.

 

“Hmph. I kinda like calling you babe.”  Lance tells him softly, reaching out to wrap a braid around his fingers. Lotor turns his head and kisses his knuckles.

 

===============================

 

Lance spots the bottles of whisky when they go to rinse the bleach off. One of them is empty and the other is drained about halfway. Lance is really impressed that Lotor’s remained conscious this long and makes sure he drinks a few glasses of water as he moves on to toning. Neither of them bring up Lotor’s family again, remaining mostly quiet as Lance eventually washes the toner out and then helps Lotor dry his hair. It takes about twenty minutes of Lance blasting it with a hair dryer on high for it to stop being drenched and it’s still damp even after Lance rubs it down with a towel.

 

“How do you live with this much hair?”

 

Lance asks, throwing the damp towel straight into the hamper on his way out of the bathroom. Lotor would probably kill him for it later but whatever. He has more and he’s sure Lotor’s hedonistic ass wouldn’t want to use that towel again before it’s washed.

 

Lotor is halfway out of his shirt when he steps into the bedroom. He shrugs at Lance. “With a lot of help and a lot of money.”

 

He seems less inebriated but still, Lance sticks around. He spends fifteen minutes rummaging in Lotor’s closet through racks upon racks of fancy shirts and pants and when he comes out to ask for help, Lotor is down to his boxers. Lance decides it’s good enough and convinces him to drink one more glass of water before coaxing him under the covers.

 

The fancy glass alarm clock on Lotor’s bedside table tells him it’s half past six as Lotor settles down against his pillow, heavy-eyed and silent.

 

“I’m heading out.” Lance tells him quietly, brushing some hair out of his face. He did a pretty good job on it and he smiles proudly to himself despite the petty part of him that still thinks he should’ve mixed Nair in with the bleach.

 

Lotor grabs his wrist. “Stay.”

 

He has work in less than seven hours and he really shouldn’t. “I-”

 

“Please.”

 

He sighs. He supposed if tonight has proven anything, it’s that he’s fucking weak for Lotor.   “Well, that is the magic word.”

 

He texts Hunk as he climbs under the covers to tell him he’s not coming back to the apartment and not to freak out when he finds his room empty in the morning. Hunk wasn’t happy getting woken up before he left, and he especially wasn’t happy when Lance told him why he was leaving. Hopefully he’s asleep and would see the text in the morning.

 

Lance’s phone buzzes.

 

_Okay._

 

Curt and surprisingly subdued coming from Hunk. He’s about to put his phone down when it buzzes again.

 

_Call or text me if you need anything._

 

Lance rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother texting him back. He puts his phone on silent and slides it under his pillow.

 

The mattress dips as Lotor turns beside him and Lance feels his breath on the back of his neck as he slides an arm over his waist, using it to pull Lance closer.

 

“Who was that?”

 

“Hunk.”

 

“He still doesn’t like me does he?”

 

He doesn’t see any reason to lie. “Nope.”

 

“Hmm. Pity.” Lotor murmurs, pressing lazy kisses to Lance’s shoulder. He’s a solid line of heat along his back and the sharp, chemical smell of his hair fill Lance’s lungs with every breath. He’ll be dead on his feet at work and he can already imagine the looks he’ll get from his friends when he tells them why but none of that can dent the warm, heavy feeling of contentment that settles over him, softening the press of exhaustion as it settles into his bones.

 

“It really is, because I don’t care.”

 

Hunk is his best friend and he can still sense a massive potential fallout lingering in the near future but as the words leave his mouth, he knows without a doubt that he means them.

 

He can feel the curve of Lotor’s smile against his skin and he closes his eyes, leaning back into the contact when Lotor moves up to nuzzle against his hair.

 

God, he is so fucked.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr: [redblackandwhiteallover](http://redblackandwhiteallover.tumblr.com/)  
> and on Twitter [alineofeyeemoji](https://twitter.com/alineofeyeemoji)


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